How Soon Is Now?
by R. Scott
Summary: The virus...it spread across the globe. Killing millions. No one could stop it. No one knew how. The Doctor, Martha and Jack are pulled into a post apocalyptic world, where the Doctor discovers a heartbreaking truth.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise.

A/N: This story, I hope, will be a rather epic one. The idea came to me whilst on holiday, and, for a change, I actually have the entire plot mapped out. Here is just a small taster of what is to come, the first chapter should be up within the week. Hope you enjoy :o)

**This story contains mature themes and strong language. Rating may rise.  
**

* * *

**How Soon Is Now?**

**Prologue **

"Don't touch him!"

Before she could reply, Claire felt herself being dragged away from the sofa in a fierce grip, leaving her arms hurting, and causing the fear that was starting to worm it's way through her transform into raw panic.

She stared at the horrific scene before her, unsure what to do, not knowing how an innocent evening watching T.V and kissing and eating pizza had suddenly turned into a blood bath. James stood beside her, rigid, still gripping her arms and obviously going through the same terror as she was. Jenny was in the corner, screaming.

Claire's voice shook as she spoke, "What…what's wrong with him?"

Matt was lying on the carpet now, having rolled off the sofa in some sort of fit. Sweat was dripping off him in buckets, his eyes showing only white, his limbs moving wildly in every direction and blood pouring from his nose and mouth. The smell of the room made her feel sick, dope and sweat and sex and blood, the lone light bulb swinging slowly, eerily glowing and she would have collapsed if James hadn't been holding her up right.

"I…" James stuttered "I don't know."

Her knees buckled slightly, the sight of Matt writhing on the floor making her want to vomit.

The four of them had just received their GCSE results. James had come straight to her house, shouting with joy and waving a piece of paper in her face.

"Four B's!" he'd cried as she'd opened the door and giggled at the sight of plain happiness on his face. "Four fucking B's!"

"Oh come here." She'd said and hugged him, then kissed him, then lead him through to the kitchen. Her parents were, fortunately, out of the country on what they had called a 'second honey moon', but what Claire knew was actually 'marriage counseling.' She didn't like to dwell on the subject too much.

"So?" James had said, grabbing a beer from the fridge "How d'you do?"

She'd smiled and ducked her head bashfully.

"Three A's, two A stars."

James had then let out a bark-like laugh and looked at her with a mixture of jealousy and pride on his face that only he really knew how to pull off. Then he'd walked over to her, ruffled her hair (a gesture which most would find patronising, but which Claire adored) and given her a quick kiss on the lips.

"Knew you'd do it." He'd said. She'd swallowed, suddenly remembering why she'd fallen in love with him to start with.

"So…party at my place?"

The so called 'party' had actually only consisted of herself, James, Matt and Jenny, who had coincidently come across quite a sizable amount of alcohol and marijuana. Matt had got a near perfect set of results, and that morning had rushed to his Dad's work place to tell him in person that his only son wasn't a failure. When he'd arrived at Claire's, for some reason he was incredibly eager to tell them about his father's job.

"I'm telling you, there's summink going on in that place." He'd said.

"Matt, honestly, it's Canary Wharf. Not the bloody Death Star." James had said whilst rolling a joint.

"I'm serious!" he'd cried indignantly "It's like…_The X files_ or something."

"Oh God, here we go…" Jenny had said. Matt looked slightly hurt that his girlfriend hadn't backed him up, but carried on anyway.

"All this 'new technology' Dad keeps raving about. You should see it there. It's all retina and finger print scans, encrypted passwords…you notice these sort of things when you look for 'em. And dad is constantly staying late…two in the morning he gets in sometimes."

"Mate, he's probably just shagging his secretary."

A look of reluctant realisation had passed Matt's face then, but he covered it with a glare.

"Well don't blame me when the bloody men in black start taking us all in for questioning."

James had passed him the joint he'd just rolled.

"I think you need that more than I do."

They'd ordered a few pizzas and watched the directors cut of _Bladerunner,_ drank and smoked themselves stupid, and that was when Matt started to cough.

At first, they'd thought he'd over done it a bit on the booze. "Steady on mate!" James had cried, laughing and whacking him on the back. Jenny laughed. Claire giggled, but frowned when he continued to cough, his face turning a sinister shade of crimson.

Then he'd doubled over and started to shake.

Now, Matt was rolling around on the carpet, struggling to breathe and looking more and more like a mad man. He wasn't Matt any more. He was a stranger. Jenny was still screaming and Claire felt like yelling at her, but knew it wouldn't help the situation.

"Do something!" Jenny sobbed, falling to her knees and grabbing Matt's arm. "Call an ambulance!!"

Claire felt James run to the hall where the phone was, and she knelt beside Jenny, who was beside herself with fear.

"Jen…" she started to say "Jen calm down."

Suddenly Matt coughed again violently, and a huge snotty, bloody mess flew from his mouth, landing on her face. Jenny started to sob more while Claire wiped her face with her sleeve, her hand shaking.

"They're on the way!" James staggered into the room "They're coming, don't worry…he'll be fine." It seemed like he was trying to convince himself as well as the two of them.

Suddenly Matt's breathing turned into gasping moans, his eyes darting everywhere, his hands reaching out blindly.

He spat out more blood. "Ba…_Baaa_."

"He's trying to say something." James muttered.

"What's he saying, what's he saying!?"

"Jenny shut up!!"

Matt suddenly grabbed Claire's shirt and pulled her towards him, and she let out a scream, too numb to struggle.

"Baaad…"

Matt looked at her, and Claire felt an unbearable heat consume her as she gazed into his white eyes. Glowing white, they were. She felt like she could fall and fly and do impossible things, she felt powerful, invincible.

"_Baaaaaaaaad_….."

More blood splattered on her face, on her clothes. She could barely hear James' yells or Jenny's screams, she was too lost in the light that was glowing before her. Light and dark, everything and everyone, the stars, the sea, time and space. She could feel it all. She could see it all.

"_Baaad_….._Wolf_.."

"What the _fuck_ is going on!?"

And suddenly she felt darkness grab her, and the familiarity of James' arms as he pulled her away from the light. A terrible fear struck her then…the warmth, it was gone, never would she feel warm or safe or free again…

James was shaking her, then grabbed her face, pushing her hair from her eyes. She realised then that she was sweating.

"Claire?" he yelled, tears in his eyes "Claire! Talk to me!"

She chanced another look at Matt. He was still now, the glow vanished. Still and unmoving, just…lying there. He could have been asleep, so peaceful. Jenny was crying.

She sounded so far away. Everything did.

Matt's last words echoed inside Claire's head. She didn't know what they meant. Only that they contained power beyond her understanding.

'_Bad Wolf_.'

By the time the ambulance arrived, Matt was dead.


	2. Chapter One

**This story contains mature themes and strong language. Rating may rise.  
**

* * *

**Chapter One**

_In the dream, he always seemed like a fly on the wall, so to speak. Watching but not being able to touch. Seeing it all happen but never being able to do anything about it._

_Like on the beach, that day, so long ago._

_He was always in a dark room. Blood on the walls; he couldn't see it but he knew it was there, like the blood on his hands. One light bulb swinging slowly and eerily above a desk. A man was sat there. Faceless. Large. Dark. He was authority, he realised, the man in charge. The man with the plan._

_The other figure was also faceless, but he could always hear the sobs coming from him. A young boy, fifteen or sixteen, sobbing. Shaking. So, so afraid._

_"Who are you?"_

_"The Doctor." said the Doctor, but they didn't know he was there, of course._

_"J…James…" the boy whispered "James Nolan."_

_James Nolan. Now who was he? He didn't know anyone called James Nolan. _

_"How old are you?"_

_"Nine hundred. I think. Is it nine hundred?"_

_"I'm…I'm s..s….sixteen."_

_So he was sixteen. Just a kid. Just a child._

_Then there were the usual questions, which included 'Why was he dreaming about this?' and 'What does this mean?'Questions every man asks himself whilst dreaming._

_"So, James. Can you tell me what happened?"_

_The dark man showed no compassion or understanding. Like a robot. Like a Dalek._

_"I don't know," said the Doctor "I wasn't even there!"_

_Another question 'Why was he answering these questions?'_

_James seemed to be struggling to breathe a bit now, and coughed slightly._

_"I…" he stuttered "We…he…Matt, he…"_

_"What happened. boy?"_

_"I told you, I don't know!" the Doctor cried, unable to stop himself for some reason._

_"He died…we…he…" James said through tears._

_"We know that!" the dark man bellowed "How did it happen!?"_

_"I DON'T KNOW!" the Doctor roared._

_Suddenly he couldn't hear them speaking. He could only hear a ringing that made him feel sick, that made the room spin…the dream wasn't suppose to end here, no, no he had to find out this time, why had he died? He had to find out because as soon as he left this world he wouldn't remember it…_

The dream slowly vanished. The sound seemed so far away at first. He had no idea what it was…only that it was unbearably irritating and that it wouldn't go away.

He tried to surface from sleep, and found himself draped over the console, buttons and wires digging in his face that had left red marks, a withered copy of The Shining resting in his hands, and he blinked again, sleep clouding his eyes, trying but failing to remember the dream. The dream, that dream, he couldn't remember yet he knew he'd had before, many many times…

When was the last time he'd slept peacefully?

Then he could hear it again. That noise…

The phone.

He was so unused to hearing the ringing of a phone inside his ship, he supposed he'd almost forgotten what it sounded like. Ringing, ringing, constantly ringing…

"Alright!" he groaned at no one, got up stiffly from the captains chair, walked over to his coat and rummaged through it's pockets until he found the source of his disturbance.

"Hello?" he barked, a little angrier than he'd intended.

"Doctor?"

His anger faded away as the voice said his name, and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a dopey grin on his face. Who else would it have been?

"Martha Jones!" he said, his voice still a little croaky "To what do I owe this very late pleasure?"

He hated to admit that he'd missed her. More than he thought he would really. More than he'd missed some of the others. Because he took her for granted…at the time, she was just there. Someone to talk to, someone to teach. Someone new and different.

Someone that tried to fill the gaping hole that would forever remain in his hearts.

And, at the time, he'd liked her a lot. Loved her, even, at some points. Because she made him feel a little less lonely and a little less distraught, she was just there. And, at the time, that had felt like enough. It had stopped him from going mad.

He was surprised when she left, but didn't let her know.

_"So, this is me. Getting out."_

Other words. So different.

_"I made my choice a long time ago, and I'm never gonna_ _leave you."_

He closed his eyes, his head hurting slightly.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. She seemed to be struggling with what she wanted to say. He could hear random noises in the background, clattering, buzzing, banging.

"We've got a problem." She said, finally. It was obvious that calling him for help had been the last thing she'd wanted to do. He didn't know weather to feel proud or annoyed.

"Right." He said "Have you tried plugging it in?"

He could almost hear the roll of her eyes.

"I'm not joking." She said, and he realised that, no, she wasn't joking.

"What is it?" he asked, hearing other noises in the background.

A gun?

"Actually, where are you?"

"Cardiff."

"Oh, I see, and Cardiff is in the middle of some sort of Civil War, is it?"

"Torchwood Three."

His expression darkened slightly.

"Why?"

Another pause.

"I work here. That's beside the point." Her voice was getting louder "We need your help."

She worked for Torchwood. Martha. His Martha. Who was training to be a doctor, Martha Jones, who was just herself the day he met her. Now she was somone else. He could hear it in her voice.

Before he could attack her with various questions, and a few insults for good measure, the TARDIS gave a mighty lurch and he was thrown on the ground. He suddenly realised he'd set the co-ordinates for Earth, 2007 without even realising it.

As he stood up, a pain crashed inside his head, a pain so unbearable, so aching and powerful, and he paused and let out an involuntary groan. Then it vanished. Like the dream.

He blinked. Twice.

"Doc?" he heard. Another voice.

"Jack. What is going on? Why is Martha working there?"

"Pal, I aint really got time to discuss career moves right now- "

An explosion. A scream.

"Jack?!"

"We're fine. But we won't be for long."

He could hear him swallow.

"We need you Doc."

The headache flashed again, but then it was gone.

"I'm on my way." He said, slamming the phone shut, grabbing his coat and marching out of the door.

* * *

"Doctor Miller. Any updates?"

Captain Christopher March waited with little patience on the line for her to reply. He drummed his fingers on his desk, glancing now and again at the monitors above him, at one in particular.

"No. Nothing has changed. If anything, she's becoming more immune. We're using all our resources to stabilise her."

March let out a frustrated sigh.

"What do you mean she's becoming more immune?"

There was another pause.

"As you know, physical attacks have no effect. Guns, flames, alien weaponry. Nothing breaks through…it's as though she's built some wort of wall around herself. Viral infections also have no effect. They are destroyed by her immune system, which, results indicate, has become even more advanced. Mutated, even. Alien viruses are also penetrated."

He could hear the words, but he didn't want to believe them. He could almost see everything falling out of place, a darkness swallowing the world.

"You've tried everything?"

"We're still working on it Captain."

"And…there's been no more outbreaks of…"

"She's stable, Sir. For now. But we fear it's growing stronger. We're doing all we can."

He didn't say anything else. He put down the phone and stared at the monitor, thinking that in all his years of service for this country, he'd never been more afraid.

He stared at the glow coming from Doctor Miller's station, the glow that never went away, the glow that sometimes sent him mad.

* * *

He heard it. The sound, the wonderful sound. The sound of the universe, of everything, everyone, time and space…the sound he lived for. He took a deep breath, feeling alive yet at the same time knowing he could actually die at any second.

He heard another scream.

"Jack, we've got more coming in!" Gwen yelled from somewhere "The barrier isn't holding!"

"Shit…" he muttered.

He looked up.

And there he was. Stood there. Grinning.

He felt the over powering urge to punch him and hug him at the same time.

"Problem?" the Doctor said, his eyebrows raised.

Jack stepped aside to show him how far the 'problem' had progressed. The Doctor let out a low whistle.

"Blimey…" he said "Talk about your cross-dimensional disturbances in the rift. How longs it been like this?"

"We don't know." Said Jack, truthfully, feeling like a failure "We've managed to keep the activity at a low level, but…the barriers we've built are failing."

"Right." The Doctor nodded, looking above him at the roof of the hub. A blinding white light was hanging there, noises of death and destruction coming from within, spitting objects and matter and alien substances…some of the team were shooting at it, others were at desks frantically typing in codes.

Jack looked at the Doctor, seeing the frown on his face and wishing Martha hadn't have called him. Wishing he wasn't here.

Suddenly, a great ball of snotty, bloody gunk flew out of the rift and landed squarely on Jack's face. The Doctor grimaced, but at the same time looked like he was fighting the urge to laugh. Jack, irritated, wiped his face.

"This isn't funny. If we don't stop it now, we won't be able to keep it stable and it'll leak out into the streets. Into the rest of the world. It's happened before, and believe me, it's not pretty."

The Doctor looked at him.

"Where's Martha?" he said.

Jack looked around. He couldn't see her anywhere.

"I don't know. Are you gonna help us or what?"

The Doctor grinned again, but not as enthusiastically.

"Yes Sir!" he said, saluting, and Jack felt like he was being mocked. Which he probably was, he realised.

God, he hated that guy sometimes.

Before he could retort, the Doctor had pointed his sonic screwdriver at the eye of the storm, the center of the gaping hole that had formed in the rift.

"Ouch…" he muttered "And none of you saw this coming? At all?"

Jack didn't have an answer to that.

The Doctor ran over to a computer that Toshiko was sat at, typing rapidly, looking at the monitor with confusion and awe on her face.

"I don't understand this." She sighed, angry, frightened. " It's like…an energy of some kind, trying to force it's way through."

"Close." The Doctor said, running his screw driver along the monitor. "It's more like a substance or compound. But it's foreign. Alien. It needs a living host, something to channel it, something it can live in so it's…how can I put this in a language you'll understand…"

"Try English." Jack muttered.

"It's trying to…_bond_ with elements in the air; oxygen, nitrogen, anything it can grab. But as it tries, it fails. Causing _that_." The Doctor gestured to the explosion hanging above them, golden tendrils reaching out into the air.

"Right." Said Jack "So…square peg, round hole."

The Doctor beamed.

"Exactly! That big, nasty looking square peg is trying to force its way through a sweet little innocent round hole. Causing…splinters and what not." He gestured again vaguely at the destruction around the hub. "The Earth's atmosphere isn't…oooh…" he tried to think of a word "Compatible."

Jack nodded, his mind beginning to wrap around everything he was saying, like it sounded crazy yet it all made sense. But then again, it was the Doctor. Everything that came out of his mouth was perfect logical nonsense.

"But how did it get here?" Toshiko said, staring at the Doctor intently "I mean, I know all sorts of alien material, living or otherwise, falls through the rift but…we've never seen anything like this. We're equipped to handle almost everything that gets here, but this…"

She swallowed, and the Doctor faced her.

"It's trying to defy the laws of physics."

"A-_ha_!" the Doctor shouted, grinning, making Toshiko jump out of her seat. 'And _that_ is where I can help you."

Jack found himself grinning.

"Go on then…" he said "What's the plan?"

"Simple really. I can just channel the energy through the TARDIS, and it's defenses should destroy any foreign substance!" He put his hands on his hips, and waited for his applause.

"_Should_?" Jack said. The Doctor frowned a little.

"Well, when I say _should,_ I mean, of course, that it almost, definitely_...will_."

Jack looked at him like he was a little mad, which he most likely was, and smiled.

"Alright then. Get to it boss!"

The Doctor grinned, but it suddenly faded rapidly, replaced by a look of anguish.

"Doc?" Jack said "_Doc!_"

The Doctor was clutching his head and fell to his knees, trying to stop from screaming in pain. His teeth were clenched and a noise came out, a groan of agony. Jack fell to his side in panic.

"Doctor- "

"I'm fine, I'm fine…" he said quietly, taking deep breaths in. Then, he let out a sigh, the pain seeming to pass. Jack helped him back onto his feet, the hole in the rift suddenly making a bellowing crash.

The Doctor straightened up, blinking hard.

"Right." He said. "TARDIS."

* * *

The Blue box. The TARDIS. For some bizarre reason that she couldn't explain, Martha thought it would have changed. But, of course, it was exactly the same as when she'd left it. Down to every last detail.

A debate had been raging within her, every alarm bell ringing in her system, don't call him. But she had. And as soon as she'd done so, she ran, ran towards the sound, her favourite sound, the sound she lived for, and just stood there looking at it. He must have already left, she must have missed him as he'd charged out and into the mess that they had somehow managed to make. The team. Her team.

She ran her hand along the console, fondly, thinking back to the moment she'd first stepped on board. Thinking about him.

Had _he_ changed at all?

It had been nearly a year, after all. Of course he must have changed.

Emotionally, physically…he would be different. It scared her more than she liked to admit.

She still loved him. Not as…_intensely_, as she once had, but still. She would always love him.

Martha jumped out of her skin when the door behind her burst open, and there he was, carrying a bundle of wires, some between his teeth, and Jack following closely behind him.

"There you are!" Jack yelled "What the hell have you been doing?"

But she didn't hear him. The overwhelming joy she felt at seeing the Doctor devoured all of her other senses.

Maybe she was still in love with him. Maybe all the nights she'd managed to convince herself her heart was repaired, maybe they had all been a waste of time.

He was grinning at her. That grin that took up all the space on his face. He spat the wires on the floor, dropping the bundle, and hugged her. The hug was perfect. The best hug she'd ever had.

"Doctor." She sighed happily, without even meaning to.

He pulled back and smiled at her.

"Martha Jones." He said. That was all he needed to say apparently, as he quickly ran over to the other side of the console, whacking it and pressing buttons and pulling levers, catching whatever Jack threw in his direction. Being the Doctor.

He hadn't changed, and the relief she felt was so overpowering it almost knocked her back.

And for a moment, if she squinted, she was back. Traveling with him. Zooming forever through time and space, endless bliss, eternal happiness.

She kept her eyes open.

"_You_…" the Doctor said, pointing at her and attaching something to the inner-workings of the TARDIS at the same time "Have some explaining to do. Working for Torchwood now, are we?"

He tried to sound casual, but she could see the darkness in his eyes, and it almost made her want to cry because it was directed at her.

"Yep." She said, a little too shakily for her liking "Problem?"

"No…no no not at all…" he said, pressing more buttons with a small frown on his face "Just didn't think you'd be up for working with control absorbing dictators who somehow manage to destroy everything they touch, bastardise everything they claim as theirs, and kill anything that tries to stop them."

Martha was so shocked by this sudden outburst she wasn't sure what to say at first.

"Hey!" Jack yelled.

"No offense." the Doctor muttered.

She felt the urge to stuck up for Jack.

"Well from what I've seen." She began, angrily "They've managed to save the world countless times without any help from you."

"If it wasn't for me they wouldn't even _exist_…" the Doctor muttered bitterly, but this was unheard by Martha. She wasn't finished, and she had no idea where it was all coming from. Like every mixed emotion she'd ever faced when it came to him had decided to burst out of her in rage.

"Well, what did they ever do to you then, hey? You never did explain that one to me, Doctor."

"Martha- " Jack suddenly said.

"No, I want to know! Why do you hate us so much?"

The Doctor remained silent. She was left stood there, breathing heavily, in the wake of her outburst.

Suddenly the Doctor popped up, grinning falsely.

"Done! " he yelled triumphantly.

Martha hadn't even asked how he was planning to help them, she just knew that he would. That he had.

Jack was grinning broadly.

"It's on it's way." He said, leaning over the Doctor's shoulder and staring into the monitor that was fixed onto the console. "It's starting to die down back at the hub."

There was a lurch suddenly, an eerie glow appearing inside the ship.

"That's quite normal…" the Doctor said, noticing the looks of fear on her and Jack's faces. "Just…extra residue, shall we say. A few leaks. It's fine." He smiled. "How could you ever have doubted me?" He clapped his hands, as if wiping them clean "Now all we have to do is- "

Martha froze in horror as the Doctor suddenly and inexplicably fell to the floor, clutching his head, screaming in agony.

"Doctor!" she cried falling beside him "Doctor can you hear me?"

The energy from the rift was causing the engines in the TARDIS to heave and stir, the noises for some reason making her skin crawl, her insides ache.

"Doctor!" she screamed again.

"Martha, what's happening?"

She could hear Jack, far away, far far away, his voice fading into the light, the blinding light that was filling the place up. So bright, so beautiful.

"What's happening?" screams, in pain, in fear, from people she'd never met and yet somehow she knew them, she felt like she knew everything. She could see everything.

"Martha!"

"Doctor!"

"_Doctor!_"

"_Bad Wolf! The Big Bad Wolf!!_"

The light, the blinding light, the unbearable pain.

Then, nothing.

**  
**


	3. Chapter Two

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, glad you are enjoying this. Next chapter will be up in about a weeks time :o)

**This story contains mature themes and strong language. Rating may rise. **

* * *

**Chapter Two**

The wind was blowing. Blowing, raging, never to stop, bringing endless masses of clouds, of storm, carrying rust and rubble and dust. Everything had come to dust.

He could see it on the horizon. The Oncoming Storm.

He stood on the roof top and stared down below, seeing nothing but death and destruction, fear and loneliness, he saw what used to be his world, his wonderful, wonderful world.

Now, nothing. The barren wastelands were all to be seen.

He heard screams far away. Far, far away, carried by the merciless wind.

Would someone hear his scream? Would he scream at all, as he fell into the darkness below, into death?

The last rays of the dying sun were disappearing and all he could think of was how perfect this all was, how beautifully dramatic and fitting that he should end his life this way. Forever falling.

His phone rang.

He started to shake, the ringing suddenly dragging him back into this horrible reality. Struck by sudden panic, he threw his phone over the edge, watching, hypnotised, as it fell and made a pathetic crash when it hit the bottom.

He followed.

* * *

His phone was unheard, the words flying across through the wind, through the stars.

"March? March! Are you there? She's talking, she's talking!"

"_Bad Wolf!_"

"March are you hearing this?"

"_He's here…_"

"Who is here, what are you trying to say? Can you understand me?"

"_Doctor…_"

"Yes, yes I am a Doctor, Doctor Miller, can you understand what I'm saying?"

"_He's here._"

A scream. Lost to the thunder. To the wind. Another casualty to wander the wasteland, unheard, never to be heard again.

* * *

_He was in the room again. But this time, it was different. He didn't know why. Something had shifted though, in the fabric of this dream, this world, something terrible._

_"James?" was the first word that left his mouth "James? Where are you?"_

_Because he wasn't there anymore. The boy. James Nolan. He wasn't there, and for some reason that single fact was more important than anything else. He could hear bullets ripping through the skies, screams of millions, human, they were human screams._

_"Sit down, Doctor."_

_The voice made him jump, but he obeyed without hesitation._

_"Where are you?" he couldn't see anyone, yet he knew who it was. The dark man, the man in charge, the man with the plan, and this time he was talking to him. He needed him._

_"Do you know where you are?"_

_"No."_

_He didn't and that bothered him a great deal. He was sweating, fidgeting in his seat, squirming and every cell in his body was screaming at him. GET OUT._

_"But you are here." The dark man said "And that is what's important."_

_"What happened to James?"_

_"Dead."_

_"What?"_

_"He was one of the first."_

_He could hear more screams from above, he was underground, the screams turning into hysterical yells._

_"HELP!!"_

_"Help them!" The Doctor yelled "Why aren't you helping them!?"_

_"There's nothing I can do anymore. It has come. But so have you."_

_The dark man's voice lowered, striking an unnatural fear inside the Doctor, fear of what? Why was he afraid of this man?_

_"It has come." He said again. "She needs you."_

_"What? Who needs me?"_

_"The Bad Wolf, of course."_

_The Doctors hearts stopped._

_"What?" he spat, darkly._

_"The Big…Bad…Baaaad."_

_"What are you saying, speak to me!"_

_Spinning again, the room was spinning, no, no no no…_

_"No!"_

"No!"

His eyes flew open, he was sucking in air, coughing, choking on his breath. His eyes hurt, his head pounded, what was happening he couldn't see…

"Hey! Hey!"

It was a voice. A voice he'd never heard before.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, hoping against hope that when he opened them, his vision would restore. When they did, it looked blur, but he could make out figures in front of him. Three people.

"He's alive!" one of them screamed "Jesus Christ, he's alive."

"Holy shit." another breathed.

The cloud was beginning to clear, everything around him coming into focus. His head, pounding a steady rhythm in time with his hearts, his memory returning piece by piece, like a jigsaw, the rift, Cardiff, Martha, Jack, but there was always that missing section…

Then it came to him.

He wasn't in the TARDIS.

"What…" he muttered, trying to breathe like it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do "Where…"

"Shut up!" one of them yelled, an American accent, and they prodded him in the chest with something hard and painful.

A gun.

He instinctively raised his hands in surrender, his eyes open fully now, and he rose to his feet slowly, his head still drumming.

He'd had the dream again, he knew, but he couldn't remember it, he couldn't remember-

"Who are you?"

The voice snapped him back to his current situation, a situation, it seemed, that was growing more hopeless by the second.

There was no sign of Jack or Martha.

"Smith, John Smith."

The three people in front of him were a mixed bunch. They were all clad in protective clothing, scraps from jeans and coats and belts, fashioned into some sort of armor or uniform. All of them were wearing gas masks. One was a girl, he could tell from her build, just a young girl with short black hair and a heart shaped face. The others were male- one about thirty years old, the American, long sandy hair tied scruffily in a pony-tale, who was once clearly very handsome, but a huge dark scar now ran across his left eye. The other, older still. Past forty, the Doctor guessed, strong, menacing, holding the gun with care and possessiveness, like they were old friends.

The Doctor swayed slightly, fear starting to increase inside him.

He didn't know where he was, and, more worryingly, he didn't know _when_ he was.

He scanned the area again. He was in the middle a road, in a city, or what used to be a city, he guessed. No people. Cars that had been turned into scrap heaps. Rusty, old, dead, destroyed. It was once something great, something magnificent. Now, rubble. Dust. It was a wasteland, skyscrapers towering above that had been ripped apart, mountains of litter and rubbish scattered the roads, the night sky and the moonlight making everything look ten times more sinister.

No sign of Jack or Martha. No sign of the TARDIS.

"John Smith?" the girl said, her voice wobbling "You serious?"

"Yes- " he said, starting to approach them, but the three raised their guns higher, terror on all of their faces.

"I…I'm not going to hurt you." He said.

"Do you have it?"

"I'm sorry?"

Pony-tale stuttered, looking at the Doctor like he was mad.

"Are you…_sick_?"

The Doctor looked at him, concerned.

"Well, I feel fine. Forget the fact I'm…stranded in an unknown wasteland with absolutely no sign of my friends or my home...but yep, apart from that, I'm just peachy."

The three eyed him warily.

"Take him back to the base for tests." said the oldest.

"What?" the girl cried "What if he is sick!? We'll infect the entire station!"

"You know what, she's right, I can take care of my- "

"Shut up!" Pony-tale barked at him.

"I can assure you." The Doctor carried on "I'm…I'm not sick."

The three of them stood there, weapons raised, unsure what to do.

"Come on." The oldest said again, with more force. "We're bringing you back to base. " The other two looked up at him like he'd lost his mind.

"He's alive," Oldest said grimly "And under the circumstances, that's the best we can hope for."

"Right." The Doctor said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coast. "Quick question. Where am I?"

* * *

The smell was what woke him up. At first, he felt like he could sleep forever, but as his eyes slowly began to open, his senses waking up, the over powering stench that surrounded him forced him awake.

Jack coughed, feeling sick, starting to retch.

"Doctor?!" he managed to yell, after coughing for a while longer than he considered normal.

He was met only by his echo.

He looked around, now on his feet. It was dark, impossibly dark, yet he knew the room was small. He fumbled inside his coat pockets, looking for something, anything, that would provide him light.

He came across a pistol, which he pulled out, and a zippo lighter with a picture of a wolf howling at the moon on it.

Think. Think think think _remember_…

He remembered being inside the TARDIS. With Martha and the Doctor.

"Martha?!"

Again, only his echo answered his desperate cry.

He instinctively pointed his gun ahead when he heard a noise. A sort of...sickening, soft _squash_…it made him feel ill and he coughed again.

"Who's there?" he yelled, trying desperately to keep from shaking.

No answer.

The smell was almost unbearable now, but he didn't know what the hell it was.

In fear, he stuck the lighter out in front of him and flicked it on, the flame making the area around him glow.

When he was finally able to see, he stumbled back with a cry, a strangled gasp. He retched again.

He was surrounded by bodies. Dead, decaying, everywhere he looked. Slumped over tables, on the floor, in a pile in the corner. They must have been there for days, weeks. Months, maybe. He made another moan of disgust, of fear, without meaning to.

Then there was the noise again.

Without thinking, he fired his pistol rapidly, in every direction, flinching as each bullet hit the wall, coughing as his breath caught in his throat.

The firing stopped and he stood there in silence, listening with sickness for another sound.

There was a low, primal growl.

Jack, terror suddenly ruling him, stumbled backwards again, running his hand along the wall until he came across a door, and he practically fell through it, tripping over tangled limbs and skidding on the blood that had made a pool on the floor.

His only instinct was shouting, yelling at him with a deafening force.

_Get the hell out of here._

* * *

_"Is she sick? Does she have it?"_

_"Are systems aren't registering her, she's unknown."_

_"What do we do?"_

_"Is she waking up?"_

She could see a light. But…it wasn't a heavenly glow or a angel, calling to her. It was bright, painful, blinding. She squinted as it leaked past her eyelids, and she tried to reach out but couldn't move.

"_She's conscious, administer another dose of sedative…_"

"No…" she managed to moan. "Where…"

"_Nothing, nothing! She's like a ghost on the system. She's no one._"

"_That's impossible._"

"_She has no I.D, no tag, to chip…_"

"Wait…" Martha choked "Doctor…"

Blurs and shadows hovered above her, hanging there, taking the shape of the monsters from her childhood nightmares, haunting her senses. She couldn't see properly, oh God, she couldn't see.

"Help…" she cried, but all that escaped her mouth was a whisper, a gasp.

"_Keep her down. We're not finished with her_."

Voices, too many, panic, fear, anger, confusion…

"_She's immune according to tests. Extract more blood samples, if she's not registered, she must be alien._"

Breathe, breathe, try to breathe for God's sake…

"_If she tries to escape, kill her._"

"_But she's alive, she's-_ "

"_Not registering! If she escapes, kill her! She could easily be one of them._"

"_But- "  
_

"_That's an order!"_

Martha struggled to keep her eyes open now, the shapes and shadows fading away into nothing. She felt pain. She felt numb.

Then she couldn't feel anything anymore.

* * *

The girl and Pony-tale were holding his arms and almost pulling him along, as he found he was too weak to keep up with them properly.

"So…honestly, what is this place?" he asked again, smiling innocently.

"I think he has concussion, Sir." Pony-tale said, glaring at the Doctor.

"Yeah, yeah that'd be it, can't remember a thing." said the Doctor "So, please, do tell."

Oldest glanced at him.

"How far back do you remember?"

"Ummm….oooh well, where do I start? I was born- "

"We don't want your life story, Jackass." Said Pony-tale with venom.

"Well good for you, we'd be here all night otherwise."

"Sir, permission to shoot him!"

"Archer, stop it!" the girl shouted, looking embarrassed. Archer gave her a filthy look.

As they dragged him along, the Doctor glanced around, desperate to see something he recognised. But it was just rubble, destruction, every step he took into this hell-like place. No sign of a blue box anywhere.

But it was here. Somewhere. He could feel it.

"I remember passing out." The Doctor decided to tell them "And, you know, I remember all the, uh, basic stuff. Name, age, blah blah blah…"

They were giving him strange looks again.

"But, apart from that, you'll have to fill me in.. Dunno where I am, dunno what…year it is?" He hoped he didn't sound too nuts, but he probably did.

Oldest turned right, down into a dark dingy alleyway, and the girl and Archer let go of him as they stopped in front of a side door, like the back entrance to some seedy club or bunker. It had an intercom system, and Oldest pressed the button, leaning into speak.

"This is Eagle speaking. We got another one. Seems to have concussion, he doesn't remember anything."

"Oh Jeez.." the intercom said, a male voice, crackling. "Is he clean?"

"He reckons so."

"Alright, come on down."

There was a buzzing sound and the door hissed and slid open, revealing a dark tunnel.

The girl, who had been giving the Doctor glances throughout the short trip, suddenly turned to face him.

"You seem alright." She said quietly, smiling sincerely.

"Well at least someone thinks so." The Doctor said, smiling back at her, thankful that, yes, there was hope in this dismal place.

"I'm Rayn." She said, leading him into the tunnel "Rayn King."

"Nice to meet you, Rayn King."

She was looking at him sadly now, as they continued to walk, the tunnel lighting up each step they took.

"So, you don't remember anything?"

"Nope."

"Lucky you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Rayn, stop talking to him!" Archer yelled at her.

Rayn blushed, and whispered to the Doctor.

"Sorry about him." She sighed "Just lost his sister. One of the Outcasts got her."

"The…what?"

"Blimey, you really don't know anything do you?"

"Well, it would help a great deal if you could, uh, tell me where I am?" the Doctor said, as they approached a set of stairs that went deep underground.

"Try London, England. Jerk." Archer spat at him.

The Doctor stopped in his tracks, an odd feeling in his throat like he'd just dry swallowed a pill.

"London?" he forced out.

Rayn gave him a pitying look, which only irritated him, adding to the feeling of hopelessness that was suddenly weighing down his stomach.

"Yes." She said, slowly as if he couldn't speak English. "London, England. The year is 2030."

"_What?_" The Doctor yelled, anger pouring out from somewhere "No. No, you're wrong. This isn't…" He was trying to think of something clever to say that wouldn't make him sound mad, but coming up short. Archer grabbed his arm again, pulling him into another large room before he could continue.

It felt like a refugee camp. There were more people here, quite a large group, gathered around fires, little technology scattered around; computers, radios, televisions. The people all looked similar; clothes, expressions, voices. They looked empty, cold. All eyes were on him.

"We're back." Eagle said. "You better run some tests on him, Tyler."

The Doctor looked ahead at a young man with dark, deep hazel eyes, eyes that looked hauntingly familiar. He looked around thirty years old, and was staring at him like he'd seen a ghost, his mouth hanging open. The Doctor suddenly felt like he was being watched by every eye in this world, like he didn't belong in his own skin.

The man ran a shaky hand through his red hair.

"Oh my God." he breathed out, his eyes shining "It's him."

****

**  
**


	4. Chapter Three

Sorry for the wait, again thank you so much for the positive reviews. Hope you're still enjoying this :o)

**This story contains mature themes and strong language. Rating may rise**

* * *

Chapter Three

It was endless. Corridor after corridor, that sickly, hospital white, neon lights flickering. He was running, his pistol held out in front of him, straining his eyes and praying he would finally see that glowing green sign that read EXIT. How long had he been running now? Minutes? Hours? Days?

Jack was breathing heavily, and he suddenly felt the gut wrenching sickness of clostraphobia closing in around him, lost inside this maze, this labyrinth. What if he couldn't find a way out? What if this horrible place (because although he didn't know where in the universe he was, he knew it resembled some kind of hell) became his final resting place, like the hundreds of lost lives he had found down here?

He stopped to rest his head in his hands, fear and hopelessness slowly beginning to take over.

"Come on…" he muttered to himself. "Come _on_ man, get it together…"

He felt irrational fears- visions of a body, reaching out and grabbing his ankle, the shadow consuming him, the low primal growl reveiling itself.

He continued to run.

Judging by his surroundings, he guessed he was in some kind of hospital or medical research center. The thought crossed his mind only once, where he was. He didn't care, truth be told, he just didn't want to be here any longer.

Suddenly, he saw it.

The sign. The green sign.

"HA!"he yelled, almost with a sob, and ran even faster towards the door, the wonderful door. Oh Jesus Christ he'd never been more glad to see a door before.

He tripped over more bodies on his sprint to get there, praying it wasn't some sort of mirage. Feeling sicker by the second-

He stopped.

The doors were glass. Glass doors. But they were grey, grey and dark and strong.

He couldn't see out of them.

They were blocked.

"No…" he said, slowly, resting a palm on the glass as if by doing so they would dissappear to reveal a path into a forest where birds were singing and the sun was shining. He would have laughed at the thought if he hadnt been so consumed by terror.

"_No!_" Jack barged into the door, banging, smashing, and in some wild moment he thought that his human strength could move the building that had crumbled beside this one, turning it into a tomb.

He was so taken over by shock and sorrow, he turned around, held his stomach and threw up.

As his insides heaved, the thought struck him- _This is it._

Jack Harkness was going to live forever. Trapped inside here. Once upon a time he could see the whole of time and space, love and loss, and it felt like bliss. The feeling of jumping off the impossible hight, forever falling…that amazing sensation he felt seconds before hitting the ground. It was like staring death in the face and then spitting at it.

He didn't need death.

But he needed life.

"Help!"

It was so far away that he thought he must be dreaming, or going mad.

But there it was again.

"Hello? Help me!"

Coughing violently and skidding in his own vomit, he ran towards it. The voice. It sounded like an angel. It was going to rescue him. It was everything he'd ever wanted, everything he'd ever been searching for, and he felt madness and sorrow and panic all at once.

"Hello?" he yelled, burning his throat.

"_Help!_" the voice screamed again, definitely female.

Door after white, clinical door, shattered glass, bodies. The stentch that had at first been overwhelming was now just lingering, sickeningly, in the air, filling the space in his lungs that were struggling to work with each hurried step he took. The coughs continued to rage.

"I'm coming!" he managed to yell again, convincing himself that he was hearing this voice. That he wasn't going crazy. He could feel it, in the very depths of his soul, he could _feel _her.

Then he reached the source. Jack ripped open the door, and found her.

At first, he let out a startled gasp as he thought his fears had actualy come to life; a dead body crumpled in the corner and screaming at him. But of course she wasn't dead.

She looked it though. Her face, a deathly white, her skin clinging to her bones, dark, grim cirles pulling on her eyes. Full of tears they were.

A skinny, boney hand reached towards him, her claw like fingers clinging onto his coat.

"Your real…" she breathed, sobbing "You're a person."

He grinned at her, impossibly. He felt strength, for some reason. Fear still lurked within him, but now, he felt that just by seeing and touching this woman, this person, this _life,_ he could do anything. There was _someone_ here, where ever here was, and that piece of information was enough to fuel his sense of adventure, optimism slowly re-surfacing.

"I'm here sweetheart, I'm here."

She let out a breathless laugh, pulling herself to her feet. She wore a pale blue shirt and black pencil skirt, and a white labcoat, her mousy brown hair greasy and tangled and matted with blood.

How long had she been here? Jack thought, gazing at her now with concern.

"You found a way in?" she giggled a little manically with a thick scottish accent. Registering her question, he felt his optimism deflate.

"No. I'm looking for a way out."

She looked confused, distraught, insane.

"What? But…but _how_? But…"

"We're gonna find a way out." He said, grimly determined, taking his role as leader, because that's what he did. He put hope in people even when it felt like there was no hope at all. "Where…where are we?"

Confusion furrowed her brow.

"What?" she stuttered "What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't know where the hell I am."

"Glasgow." She wailed "Oh it's all gone, it's all gone…they've all _gone_! The entire team, everyone else…Torchwoord Two…it's just going to vanish off the map! The _whole world_!"

Jack's heart dropped into his stomach.

"_What?_"

But she was crying. Crying and hopless and lost and alone, and she didn't know what was happening around her. She had no idea what she was saying, she had no idea who she _was_.

"Hey…" he whispered, taking her face in his hands and pushing down the panic that was slowly beginning to return. "Listen to me. You're gonna be okay."

She gazed up at him, like he was a God of some kind. The end of all things, the center of the universe.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

She stuttered slightly as she spoke.

"Margret…" she said "But...no...people call me Maggie."

Then her face collapsed in on itself, as she seemed to remember that those 'people' were gone. He could see her story unfolding in her broken eyes.

"Okay Maggie, I…I'm going to _help_ you. I_ promise._"

He scared himself a little, because when he said that he sounded a bit like the Doctor.

"But…how?"

Jack, who didn't know the answer to that, let her lean against him, and he took a look at the room she was in. Large. Bodies everywhere, as was usual here.

But Jack didn't notice anything.

His eyes were locked on something in the room ahead, a glass wall seperating them. In that moment, he truly felt invincible.

The Blue Box.

The TARDIS.

"Sweetheart…" he sighed, relief threataning to burst from him "We just got our ticket outta here."

* * *

When she finally surfaced from sleep, where dreams and visions had haunted her for what felt like a life time, she was met by utter silence.

Complete, eternal silence.

She thought she was dead.

Her eyes still foggy and her head hurting, Martha cleared her throat and tried to sit up.

She couldn't.

Her breathing suddenly becoming laboured, she looked around in fear, her head able to move from side to side. Was she strapped down?

She peered at her arms. No. She wasn't.

She couldn't move…Oh God, she couldn't _move_.

Moans and sharp breaths escaped her as she struggled against the weight of her own body, her mind coming to far too many horrific conclusions.

"Oh God…Oh God help!" she screamed. She felt like she'd screamed it a thousand times before. And she knew know one would come.

_She couldn't move_.

And in that moment, where there was no one, nothing, no sound or light or comfort, Martha Jones lay there, trapped inside herself, and wept. Her cries echoed down the hallway for only dead ears to hear, her anguish unknown, her pain suffered alone. So, so alone. She lifted her hand to her face to wipe her tears away stubbornly, feeling-

Wait.

Her _arm_. She _lifted her arm.  
_  
Martha choked on her tears as she tried to move the other one, slowly but surely lifting herself up onto her elbows, feeling like she'd climbed a thousand steps and her entire body was _screaming_, her blood boiling and her head pounding. Sitting up had become the hardest thing in the world to do.

"Please…" she found herself begging some unknown force, praying to God. "_Please_…"

Her mouth formed a frown of determination, her teeth gritted and her eyes watering, and she let out a groan of pain as she finally managed to lift herself up, sitting up straight. She tried to catch her breath, her lungs being held down by iron grips.  
Coughing, she was finally able to see where she was.

It was some sort of…laboratory, similar to the one back at Torchwood. But it also had the disturbing qualities of a torture chamber. A dungeon. A prison. Darkness drowned every corner, the only light coming from a flickering, neon tube above her. She began to shake uncontrolably, a fear inside her which she'd only experienced once before. In that escape pod, hurtling towards that sun. The hopeless nauseating sickness of being so far away from home. So unknown. So tiny.

So lost.

She could smell the all too familiar stench of rotting flesh, of dead bodies, and she didn't need to see them to know that they were there. All her years training to be a doctor, she herself seemed to have become immune to the nausia one felt upon laying eyes on a lifeless soul. Death was just a fact.

Yet, when facing her own, as she seemed to be now, it terrified her impossibly.

_Where the hell is everybody? There are people here, I know it, I remember! There were people here…_

And terror, horror and sickness began to strangle her, as a new kind of fear was born…_What had they done to her_?

Oh God…she needed to see the Doctor. She needed to _see_ him, then she would be okay. She would know where she was and what had happened to them.

But who was she kidding? He wasn't a _God_, vengeful or otherwise, he was another life, another man, and man couldn't achieve the impossible. He'd screamed at her in pain, over and over again before, _I can't do impossible_.

He'd been referring to Rose at the time.

_She saw him enter the TARDIS after bidding old, brave Tim Latimer farewell, a smile on his face yet impossible darkness in his eyes._

"So…" The Doctor began, running a hand through his hair and trying to smile warmly at her. He couldn't though. Not yet. Maybe not ever. "Where to?"

Martha stared at him sadly for a long time. How was she suppose to make him talk? Properly? He'd told her about the Time War of course, but that was inevitable, she would have found out eventually. And she knew that she wasn't the first person to travel with him, he'd told her from the very beginning. There were many before her, in his long, long life, so many he must have loved along the way.  


_I mean, he loved her. She could see it…when he looked at her, sometimes. Just, fleeting glances. But it wasn't realy love. It was love someone felt for a life jacket when they were drowning, the love someone felt towards the only person left.  
_

_He only loved her because he thought he had to.  
_

_She swallowed before she spoke next.  
_

_"Do you remember much at all?" she asked slowly "I mean, being John Smith?"  
_

_"Pretty much most of it…" he said, but he was frowning, pressing random buttons without looking at what he was doing. "Some bits…bit foggy…"  
_

_She couldn't look at him.  
_

_"What about the journal?"  
_

_He looked up at her sharply.  
_

_"What about it?"  
_

_"I mean…d'you remember what you wrote?"  
_

_His frown deepened.  
_

_"Well, only what I already know up here," He pointed to his head "So…yes."  
_

_She nodded, pressing her lips together.  
_

_Should she say? Was it her place? But she wasn't sure how long she could endure the nagging in the back of her head. That had always been her fault. Curiosity.  
_

_"I um…I mean you wrote…you drew…"  
_

_"What is it?" he said darkly.  
_

_"Rose!" she finally said, feeling sick suddenly, unsure why she'd begun this."I saw her. You drew her, wrote about her. Pages and pages."  
_

_He didn't answer for a moment. His face was expressionless, his eyes hollow. He just stood there, staring at the center of the console as it heaved, the Time Vortex flowing within. The TARDIS itself seemed to tense after her outburst. Martha felt like she didn't belong here anymore. That she'd never really belonged here. Absently, she played with the key around her neck  
_

_The Doctor sighed, then looked at her. No. Glared at her.  
_

_"And?"  
_

_"Well…do you want to talk about it?"  
_

_"No."  
_

_"I think you should."  
_

_"Well I don't."  
_

_"Doctor."  
_

_"Martha." He said, his voice so low, his eyes so deep like he was looking into the deepest confines of her mind "Don't."  
_

_Martha, suddenly impossibly angry at him, stuck her chin up.  
_

_"How did she die?" she asked, determined to get it out of him for his own good more than anything. Because everyday she had to watch it slowly tear him apart. She'd dealt with greif before, husbands losing wives, mothers losing kids. It was the same with each one. Some small differences, but at the root of it all was that darkness that one only experienced after forever losing a loved one.  
_

_"She's not DEAD!"  
_

_His hands were in his hair now, and he turned away from her, pulling a lever violently, his face distressed. She knew she'd feel guilty beyond belief later, but right now, it was something she had to do. For him.  
_

_"Look, just talk to me!" she cried "I want to know!"  
_

_"Well I don't want you to know." He spat cruelly, leaning against the console as if physically weakened.  
_

_"Well if she's not dead, find her! Do something!"  
_

_"I can't." he almost whispered. "It's impossible…"  
_

_"I've heard that before…" she muttered. "Look, you…you're in denial Doctor! If you'd just-"  
_

_"I can't do impossible!"  
_

_He stood there, breathing heavily, his eyes shining. His face fell into his hands in tired frustration, then after a long moment which Martha thought might last forever, he looked back at her again, a curiously sad look suddenly in his eyes.  
_

_"What did it say?" he asked, his voice steady "What did I write about her?"  
_

_Martha swallowed, shocked by his sudden mood swing, and looked at her feet.  
_

_"I didn't see all of it. Only one line. It said 'Rose. Always with me, holding my hand. My rock. My mysterious beauty.'"  
_

_They gazed at each other for a long time then, just thinking, lost in their own heads. The Doctor's mouth formed into a small, tired smile, before he turned back to the console. He pressed a button and the TARDIS skidded to a landing. Grabbing his coat, he headed for the door.  
_

_Martha, feeling suddenly like she was falling, ran out to join him where they had landed. An old, dusty house, with strange, haunting figurines.  
_

_"Doctor- "  
_

_But before she could carry on, she blinked._

Martha, then, knew that his 'mysterious beauty' must be dead.

All talk of parallel worlds and hell and the void…the girl was _dead._ To the Doctor, she was dead.

Martha closed her eyes in frustration, screaming at herself for thinking about him when it was herself she needed to worry about.

Letting out another sob, she waited patiently for her legs to regain life.

Only then could she possibly have some hope.

* * *

"Oh my God." he breathed out, his eyes shining "It's him."

The two of them stood there for a long moment, each unsure of the other, the Doctor and the red haired man.

_I know you_ the Doctor thought, staring intensely at him. _I know your eyes_.

He gazed deeply into those eyes, feeling sad. He didn't know why. Looking into those eyes, he felt alone.

Suddenly the enitre area seemed to shake with the force of an earthquake, people collapsing to the ground.

"Shit!" yelled a gruff voice. Eagle was running over to a system of advanced computers, a console of some kind. Screams were let out by many of the others. The red haired man…Tyler…gave the Doctor a long, meaningful look, before rushing to join Eagle at his station.

"What's happening?" he yelled over a bellowing crash, his accent unmistakable as that of a cockney.

"They've found us Tyler," Eagle said gravely "There trying to break through our defenses."

"Bollocks." Tyler shouted, rushing to another moniter. He stared at it darkly, before shouting to everyone in a mountanous voice "_Move!_"

The Doctor's eyes were flicking from one person to another, each one with rising panic on their faces, the small number of children clinging to their mothers, women clinging to their men, men gathering everything they could. He saw Archer rush over to where Eagle and Tyler had begun typing, followed closely by Rayn, a look of horror on her face.

"What do you mean they've found us?" she cried "I thought- "

"Rayn, shut up!" Archer spat at her cruelly. Rayn looked as though she'd just been slapped. "They've- "

"Don't you fucking speak to me like that!" Rayn yelled at him "If I- "

"Hey!" Tyler boomed "I don't need this from you two right now- "

"_Listen!_"

The three of them silenced immediately, as the Doctor roared at them, his eyes stormy. They all stared at him in unison, looks of aprehension and awe on all of their faces.

"Listen to me…" he began again, calmly. "Someone explain to me what is happening. From the beginning."

Tyler was suddenly glaring at him.

"There's no time to start from the beginning. We've got Outcasts coming from all directions, and I need to get my men armed and prepared."

Eagle stared at the base, a look of dawning fear on his old face.

"Tyler, we haven't got enough weaponry left, not enough men to _fight_ these things." He yelled, the crashing above starting to become louder. "We don't stand a chance, we need to leave _now_."

"And where the hell are we supposed to take them?" Archer cried, running a hand through his hair and showing the horror of his scar, running along his hair line and through his skull.

The Doctor stood behind Tyler, staring at the monitor in front of him as the other three argued. The screen showed the view from a security camera above, the street crawling with creatures that where hard to distiguish in the darkness. They were large, about four of them, ape-like in structure, but dripping…some sort of liquid or slime pouring from them. The Doctor had never seen anything like them before in his life.

"Have you got back up defence systems?" He asked, examining the computer's workings with the sonic screwdriver. Tyler glanced at it breifly before returning to his work.

"Yup. They're fucked." He said. He took another look at the man behind him. "Doctor, we need to get em out of here, they can't fight."

"I know…." The Doctor said "Is there anywhere- "

He stopped suddenly and stared at Tyler sharply.

"You called me Doctor."

Tyler ignored him, typing rapidly. The Doctor grabbed his arms, staring deep into his eyes, his teeth gritted.

"_Who are you?_" he said, his voice so low with so much hidden authority. Tyler shoved him away, glaring right back.

"Tyler!" Eagle suddenly yelled. Tyler ran over to his station. "There's traces of life at Station 2."

"What?" he cried "We just checked that. All inhabitants desceased."

"Well we were wrong."

The screen showed a blue print of a building hidden deep underground, a tiny red dot blinking in the corner. Life.

"It's human." Eagle muttered, his eyes scanning streams of text that appeared on the monitor "Female…not infected…been there for about 4 hours…"

Archer shook his head violently.

"That's impossible." He yelled "It can't be human, it's not registering on the database!" The fear in his voice was hard to ignore, even though he was obviously trying to hide it "What if its one of _them?_ They've…they've been humanoid before…"

"No they haven't." Rayn said, grabbing a gun and shoving it in her rucksack "Only the first army was humanoid. They haven't taken that shape for years."

"Whatever!" Tyler shouted "The point is, we've got somewhere to go. Eagle, get everyone going. Station two is uninfected. We'll take the underground route."

Eagle stared at him before rushing to assemble the others.

"Where is it, where are you taking them?" the Doctor cried, addressing Rayn who seemed to be the only one who truly trusted him.

"Station 2." She said, gathering more supplies as the roars above continued to rage "A whole network of stations were made after the virus to keep people safe from the outcasts."

The Doctor stared at her, trying to absorb what she was saying.

"_Virus_? What virus?" he yelled over a deafening boom "You said this was London, 2030. It _can't _be!"

Rayn stared at him with horror.

"The Virus…you must remember…" She said shakily, her eyes watering. The Doctor took her arms and bent down so he could gaze into her eyes.

"_Tell me_. You've _got_ to tell me."

"2007." She said, staring at him with wonder "That's when it started. I was just a kid…The virus...it spread across the globe. Killing millions. No one could stop it. No one knew how."

The Doctor was shaking his head as she spoke. No…no, no, no…this was wrong. Something was so _horribly wrong_.

Rayn continued to speak as the others were screaming and crying, the creatures roaring for blood.

"Earth's defenses were stripped bare, and we were open to attack." She sobbed "The virus killed most life that got here, but one race…it stayed. Unaffected. Scavanging any human life that was left."

"The Outcasts we call them." Archer suddenly said, his face unbearably dark, his voice cold. "They've been here ever since. We just survive. Looking for a way to kill em all."

The Doctor ran both hands through his hair, his blood trobbing through his vains, sweat suddenly dripping from him.

"How did it happen?" he barked "The…the virus, what happened?"

"No one really knows anymore. Not even Tyler." Rayn said, staring at the red haired man as he continued to gather supplies. The Doctor followed her gaze. "He knows more than he lets on though. But he never says."

Tyler. _Tyler_. Who was he? He knew him, he was so undeniably sure, he could feel it in his gut.

Archer was suddenly staring at Rayn, a strange look in his eyes, one of sadness and hope and loss.

"Come on." He said, softly "We've gotta get going."

He faced the Doctor.

"We'll tell you everything when we're _safe_."

The Doctor, fear and confuson and that overwhelming need to help people battling inside him, nodded.

Tyler ran over to them, a gun slung over his back, looking like a warrior. A hero.

"Everyone set?" he said. Archer and Rayn saluted. The Doctor stepped towards him.

"Tell me everything." He said, darkly "When we get there. Tell me _everything_ you know."

Suddenly a monsterous, blood soaked arm burst through the door the Doctor had originally come through. It looked like flesh, turned inside out, veins and scars and tissue brawling over it.

"_Run!_" Tyler suddenly boomed "_Everybody get out of here!_"

The three humans, complete, raw terror on their faces, bolted for the set of stairs the many others had just departed from.

The Doctor, his very foundations shaking, had no choice but to follow.


End file.
